Collection of Scenes
by Lady Idyllic
Summary: This will be a list of scenes that keep popping in my mind. Post war, random scenes, final battles, death by old age, whatever you can think of. More will be added as more pop up.


**Title: The Hero's last Breath.**

**Summary: The last moments of a hero's life, now that his purpose is completed, there is no need for a used hero. One-shot, violence and character deaths. **

**Disclaimer: I own nothing of the Potterverse or its characters. **

The sun was high, its rays heating the battlefield. They had won, but at such a price. Many had died, on both sides it was a massacre, none had escaped. Bodies littered the plains that had formerly been a beauty in themselves. Now, the earth was charred, burnt marks, scars where the earth had opened to swallow those standing upon her, fallen trees…

The earth would not soon forget what had taken place on her soil even if the humans would. The blood of many would forever taint the grounds. Those who were down would be left there for a while, as there weren't enough magical people left to gather the dead. One was different though, for the simple fact that he was still alive. His long flowing black robes were stuck to the muddy ground, his bloody hair falling to cover his face.

His glowing emerald eyes were glazed over and half closed, pain was etched on his face. His shirt was covered in blood, both his own and others' mixing on the fabric. His right leg was bent in an odd angle, proving that it was broken, and in many places at that. A large gash covered his throat, nearly cutting through the veins in his neck. Blood was steadily oozing from it, as red as every other time he had bled.

His arms were spread eagle; both his hands were bleeding from gashes made by a single blade, his own. In a few meters radius circle was burnt around him, a small circle of blood cutting the burnt off just after another body. That one had been burnt to ashes, blood still flowing from it, back blood, as black as the other's soul.

The young man was dying, he knew that well. He would soon be reunited with those he had longed for, for a long time he had been alone. A couple of coughs racked through his frame, his life force coming out of his mouth in a flow. A small smile came on his lips, but soon faded as he thought of them, Ron, Hermione, Sirius, Seamus, Ginny… and finally Padma. That name came down as a painful blow to his heart.

She had been stolen from his presence, imprisoned, raped, violated and abused before she had been presented to him as a birthday gift. His beautiful wife, her warm black eyes and her witty personality had been greatly missed. The indian ravenclaw had been the light of his day, his joy and pride. A single tear fell from his eyes, moistening the ashes around him.

They had married when they had reached majority, which had been the best moment of his life as he bonded himself to the woman of his heart. They had been married for three years when she had been abducted, and a year and a half had passed since. He could still remember her broken and bloody sitting on his porch the day of his anniversary. She had been barely alive, but she had died in his arms as nothing could be done for her.

It had only fuelled his rage further, his soul now empty of all emotions besides anger and hatred. He had sped up the pace, pushing his own limits as well as his soldiers. In the end, it no longer mattered as there was no magical Britain worth fighting over as every muggle born and wizard fell under the vice grip of death. The supposed savior let out a bitter laugh, continuing even if it fell in a coughing fit. Everything in him was broken, gone was the fiery spirited Harry Potter.

There lay a broken man, one who had lost everything he held close to his heart. The wizard's era was now over, new magic would take over, young magic, untameable magic. No control would come from the youth born after this fateful day; no taming would ever bring corruption through a government that would never exist. It was a happy thought for him, as the world was now changing day by day. A new world was coming in, and he was glad he wouldn't be there to see it.

He felt his breath slowly slipping away, his vision darkening from the bright sunny day that was certainly mocking him by its joyful arrangements. The ''savior'' was welcoming death as the evil of his last moments seeped from him through the soil beneath him. He had forgiven the people who had wronged him, even in the smallest ways and had found rest with the ghost of a christian father having remained waiting for the moment to talk to him.

That conversation had saved him saved him from his own personal hell. The ghost having completed his mission had finally past away, a gentle smile on his aged face. A smile came on his face as he departed the world that had hated him so much. As the young man died, he left behind a sea of destruction, but not all would be good again where his body would rest.

As the smell of death rose to the skies, an entire generation lay on the bloody plains, the earth would remember, nothing would grow over the bodies of both armies, leaving the testimony of a great folly. No human would step on the former school's grounds as the old castle and the forest would welcome nobody. Forever tainted, forever unforgiving.


End file.
